


Five Times Elizabeth Walks Away

by Peanutbutterer



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 5 Things, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-27
Updated: 2011-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanutbutterer/pseuds/Peanutbutterer





	Five Times Elizabeth Walks Away

1--

The rain pours from the sky in sheets, rolling off the tip of her hood and splashing against her face. She wraps her fingers tightly around her biceps and braces herself against the wind.

The house stands in front of her, a little ways down the drive. She knows it's warm inside, protected from the surrounding storm by heat and light and perhaps something more. The windows glow yellow behind the curtains and a shadow moves inside. She tightens the hold she has on herself and moves toward it.

Heart sinking in cadence with each step, she makes her way down the path. The wind is at her front, pushing against her, but she tilts her chin to her chest and struggles against it to climb the steps to the front door.

A little black nose parts the curtains to reveal a yellow face and big, sad eyes. She knows that just beyond the curtain a tail is wagging, anxious and excited, not knowing what is to come.

She has no delusions about reaching for the knob. Faltering now will only bring more heartache, will only cause her resolve to waiver, and this is something she must do.

She slips a cold, wet hand into her coat and retrieves the disc. She places it carefully on the mat and arranges it once, then again, until she knows she has no more excuse to stay.

The wind at her back propels her forward as she turns and walks away.

 

2--

"Goodnight," she says as she passes through the control room on her way to her quarters.

"Goodnight," responds the technician, "and try to get some rest, ma'am."

Elizabeth doesn't break stride but she does hesitate. In the end, she doesn't answer. After all, she's never considered herself one to make false promises.

Since coming to Atlantis, she's had very little time for herself. Leading an intergalactic expedition turned out to be a more than full-time job. She's happy to do it of course, wouldn't want it any other way; but sometimes at night, when it's after oh three hundred hours and she's still on her feet, she thinks about alternatives.

She slows as she comes to the fork that will take her to her quarters. After a moment she bites her lip and turns right instead. She reaches the infirmary quickly enough, and only battles with herself one more time before crossing the threshold.

It's dark but not black inside, the faint glow of softly dimmed lamps casting itself gently across the room. Privacy curtains are closed around beds that house sleeping patients, but one remains in view.

In a small, makeshift crib lies a newborn -- the first child born on Atlantis in over 10,000 years. The tag at the foot of his bed proclaims his name.

"Hello, Aaron," she whispers to the tiny bundle. He's pink and wrinkly and blinking up at her with rich, dark-brown eyes.

His hand waves as he wiggles and she brushes his palm with her finger.

In the quiet of early morning she watches him. The grip he has on her isn't firm, but it's powerful. There are no jarring sounds here, no shouts, and the ghosts are quiet, too. She looks at the tiny hand and thinks maybe, just maybe, some day she could have that.

All too soon the shadows hovering at the edges of the room begin to creep closer. The small eyelids blink once, twice, then slowly fall shut. She pulls her finger from his grasp and turns away.

Her thoughts return to work and the city as she makes her way to her quarters, leaving impossibilities where they belong -- in the darkness of night.

 

3--

She never thought it would come to this. Well, that's not entirely true. She never thought it would be _him_ that brought them here.

"Elizabeth?" he calls her name softly and she realizes she's been sitting in silence for an indeterminable length of time. She tears her eyes away from her tangled fingers and finally meets his gaze. He looks awkward and uncomfortable and _vulnerable_ , and she's not sure she can muster the strength to fight this anymore.

"John, I," she trails off, at a loss as to what to say.

He loves her. _Loves_ her. She lets the thought wrap around her. It settles on her shoulders and seeps into her chest. But then slowly, inch by inch, it gains presence in her mind. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to be uncomplicated. It was supposed to be a diversion. Love was never an intended piece of the equation.

It occurs to her that she could have done things differently if only she had known the consequences. Scenes pile up on top of each other -- moment after moment where she could have said something else or waited a minute longer. She lists each apology that she could have made, takes back all of her yeses, and retreats before she even arrives at this point.

But those scenarios are all in her imagination and change nothing. Right now she's still sitting in the quarters of a man she may have already allowed herself to love, considering how best to break his heart.

This isn't what she wanted. It isn't what she intended.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly, pushing the words between them.

"You're sorry?" he asks. "Why are you sorry that I love you?"

Because she's the leader of the expedition. Because she cannot afford to split her focus, to form attachments or to compromise in any way. Because she's not allowed.

"Because I don't love you," she says instead. She waits until she's halfway through the door before pausing and whispering over her shoulder, "I'm so very sorry."

 

4--

"Ma'am?"

Major Lorne is speaking and she admonishes herself to focus. "I'm sorry?"

"The 302s are in place, ma'am. Your orders?"

She folds her arms over her chest and stares at the screen. She's aware of the correct path, of the decision she needs to make. They've blatantly broken the treaty, they've refused to reopen negotiations and have now more than doubled their arms production. The right move is clear before her -- it simply contradicts every fundamental belief she's carried since she watched her brother pick a fight in grade-school only to wind up with two black eyes and a detention slip.

She doesn't believe that violence is the solution. But she knows it can be.

"Attack," she says with more conviction than she feels. She holds her eyes on the image on the screen just long enough to appear stalwart before turning on her heel and escaping to the balcony.

She doesn't breathe until she gets there.

 

5--

She stands in the center of the gate room, thumbs in the straps of her backpack.

They never actually filled this room - no furniture, no clutter - but without their small additions it feels empty, hollow. The hallways that spill from the center tower, the pathways and lifelines to the depths of the city, now lead only to darkness. As the remaining personnel of the Atlantis Expedition file through the gate behind her, crystals fade and flicker out completely. It's strangely like deja vu in reverse.

She feels him approach before she hears him. "Elizabeth?"

She looks away, brushes a finger under her eyes.

"It's time to go," he says softly.

"I know." She doesn't move. His hand reaches out to catch hers and she allows her fingers to curl around his. "I never thought I'd come here. I never thought we'd actually make it."

"I never thought I'd live to see it end."

"I don't know that I'm ready to."

He squeezes her hand lightly. "You know what they say..."

She shakes her head and offers a rueful smile. "Don't say it-"

"When one door closes, another opens."

She thinks of the doors that have closed for her, and of the doors she's never opened. Her life seemed to plot its course like a meandering river. Sediment and erosion altered its path slowly until one day, when she looked back, its shape was so different from when it had started. People had washed away, places were left behind.

She glances at him. "But don't you ever wonder…" She lets the sentence trail away.

"All the time," he pauses, hesitates over his words, "but what they say about the next door is true, you know."

She twists to look up at him. Darkness is shadowed there, but his eyes still hold a bright flare of hope.

He grins. "There's always Brigadoon."

As he disappears through the wormhole, the last of lights flicker out in Atlantis leaving only the shimmering pool of the wormhole.

With a final glance and a whispered goodbye, Elizabeth turns from her city and steps into the blue.


End file.
